Who Are You
by Jessica Dawn
Summary: Without a camera to fall back on, where does Mark turn? Without a best friend to live with, what becomes of Roger? Why is the family falling apart? Eventual MR
1. Chapter 1

Who Are You?

Jessica Dawn

-Post-RENT-

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"You just don't get it Mark, do you? You still hide behind that fucking camera of yours… Why? What the fuck are you so afraid of feeling? Are you even capable of feeling anymore? You don't love anybody or anything… Oh, except your camera… And you don't get mad at anyone or any- Oh wait! You get mad at your camera… What the fuck do you do Mark? How do you do it?"

"Roger… You… You wouldn't understand…"

"Understand what, Mark? That you're too busy detaching yourself from everybody to the point that your closest friends don't even know who you are? I'm your roommate and I couldn't even guess what your favourite colour is. You never open up to anybody."

"…"

"And then when somebody throws the fact that you fail at life back in your face, you shut the fuck up. You obviously know something is wrong, you don't try to defend yourself. Don't you think it's about time you made some fucking changes in your life?"

"I'm going out…"

"That's right Mark… Run away… Oh, what's that I see? Taking the camera with you?"

---

The sounds of his last words were enough to push me over the edge. Every single time we fought it was over my camera. Or over me. But always the camera got dragged into it. Did he really hate it that much? Was the camera the source of all of my misery? Because damnit, Roger had a way of making it seem that way.

I wanted the fights between us to stop, I wanted it to stop so desperately, that I could've sworn I was having an out of body experience. I don't know what made me do what I was about to do… I can't explain the thought process. All I know is that one second my hand was pulling back, camera in it, and next thing I knew, the camera was flying across the space between me and Roger.

Freeze. The camera that meant so much to me, and it hadn't even taken a split second for me to decide that it was worthless, and fling it at somebody. The camera that I'd made my life, and I just picked it up and threw it at Roger. There's symbolism in that somewhere… But I'll be damned if I know what it is right now. The anger pumping through me is still way too much. I couldn't figure out just what that meant right now if I wanted to.

Unfreeze. I can't do anything but watch with tears welling in my eyes as Roger ducks slightly, and the camera hits the wall behind him. I can watch as the handle snaps off, and the lens shattered. Two of the side panels fell off, and the reel that had been feeding through it unwound, and shot about on the floor. Part of me was glad I'd done it, but I knew I'd regret it, if not now, eventually.

"There you go, asshole. There's the fucking camera. It's always about the fucking camera, right Rog? It's all yours now." It was all I could manage through my anger and sadness to flow from my mouth, as I slammed the loft door closed and raced down the stairs.

As soon as I reached the front door to the building, I regretted leaving in such haste, but I couldn't exactly go back now just for a coat. The thin long sleeved shirt I was wearing did little for January in Alphabet City. Little at all. Couple with a pair of worn jeans, a hole torn across one knee, and a pair of… Fuck, slippers? I was cold. That was all I could be sure of. My glasses steamed up as I moved out into the street trying to make light of the argument.

I never could figure out why he got so mad at me. Or why he always got upset whenever I moved into my bedroom to work. I couldn't focus in the living room with his guitar playing, and Marking off frames meant a lot of clicking with the camera…

Shit… The camera. Well, he wouldn't have to worry about me hiding behind it anymore. I didn't have a camera to hide behind anymore… Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I picked up my pace, moving through the streets. A glance above, and I could see him standing on the fire escape. He was shouting, but it didn't matter what he was saying right now. He had pieces of my camera in his hands. It really had shattered. If comforting me is what he was trying to do by having it in his hands, he was failing.

Who really gave a fuck right now though. I couldn't stand the loft anymore. I couldn't stand being part of the family right now. Everybody'd started to get on my case. A break was what I needed right now, and whether or not I was warm, or had a place to go, a break was what I was taking. No Roger, no Mimi… No AZT, no… Anything. Not even a camera. Just me. Mark.

---

I didn't understand what was going through Mark's mind when he stood at the door. Something I'd said had struck a nerve. You could literally see the moment he'd made the decision to throw his _life_ at me. The camera was so much more to him than a hobby. It was his life. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as it moved through the air, and really, being knocked out by Mark's camera was not on my to do list for now, or any time in the near future. I almost wished I had let it hit me instead though when I saw it break upon contact. 

Mark was shouting something at me, but my mind couldn't wrap itself around the situation right now. Mark's camera was in pieces and…

I jumped slightly as the loft door slammed shut. _Mark._ Where did he go? I raced through our home, hoping he'd just run off to his room or something, but no such luck. Fire Escape. That was another option. I grabbed the pieces I could to his camera as I ran to the window and climbed out onto it. He was down in the street. "Mark! Come back! I can… fix it! I think… Please Mark! Don't do this… You're gonna freeze your ass off and you don' even have _shoes _on. I didn't mean it Mark! Come back please!"

But he didn't listen. Figures. I guess I'd finally managed to open my mouth and stick my foot in. How the hell were we going to fix this one…?


	2. Chapter 2

Who Are You

Jessica Dawn

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AN: Sorry about the brief wait guys. I'm keeping chapters short in hopes of getting things uploaded quicker, but I took to writing on my computer and uploading on another. Now I'm back on mine, and waiting for a connection. On with the story.

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I'd kept watch on the street below our loft for three days. How the hell could he stay gone that long… Especially in his slippers? I know he has no money on him. His wallet is sitting by the door. But maybe it's time I realized that Mark is a big boy. He can take care of himself, even if sometimes he is rather childish. What adult just runs away at a fight? It doesn't make much sense. But if it's what he feels the need to do, then I guess he can run away all he wants. I'm not his mother. I wouldn't give my Jewish son a hot plate for Christmas.

But whatever. Not my place to start judging his folks. They can't be all that bad if they made Mark.

Still, I just can't help it. I can't even focus long enough to play Musetta's fucking Waltz. I keep hearing his voice every time I touch the guitar. All of a sudden I can realize that he really does listen when I play. Every time I'd play that same wrong note I could hear his voice in my head.

_"You're sharp."_

And every time I heard those two words, I'd jump and glance up at the door, only to find it just as closed as it'd been when he slammed it. Of course, I'd pick the guitar back up again. I had to write a new song. The thrill I got when I'd finished writing Your Eyes for Mimi was just too much. I had to write more. Maybe then I could afford my half of the rent. Benny's easier on us now about it all, a lot easier, but still… Mark pays for everything. Mark really does a good job taking care of me. Makes me feel like shit every time I realize just how dependant I am on the Jew.

So I'd pick my guitar up again, and start playing, and still, I'd be playing Musetta's Waltz, and I'd still play the same wrong note, and I'd _still _hear his voice floating at me from the door.

_"Try moving up a fret… It goes lower if you're farther away from the hole, right?"_

And again I'd jump, and this time I'd have to go over and open the door to make sure he wasn't calling at me from the stairs. He had to come home soon. He's just wearing his fucking slippers.

Maybe I shouldn't be so self-centered though. In three days, I hadn't gotten far at all with Mark's camera. He took such good care of it. Now the film was rolled up at least, on reel, but the camera itself… I hadn't really done much with it yet. Our tools were limited, and fixing it didn't exactly strike me as a simple task. It would be something I'd have to sit down at for a while.

I can't believe I pissed him off that badly. It's the most emotion I think I've ever seen him show, throwing his camera at me. I still don't really believe he did it, but the camera is sitting in pieces on the table, and all it does is remind me that Mark's not here. Mark's out there… with nothing but his slippers. I shouldn't have taken the camera onto the fire escape with me after he left, I should've taken out his scarf, or a jacket or something and thrown it at him. I'm a fucking idiot.

Mark won't come home if he's got a cold… He'd be too afraid to come near me and get me sick. I sighed slightly, giving up for the night and heading back into the apartment. He never came home late if he could help it. I sunk low into an old battered armchair that I think we salvaged a couple of years ago off of somebody's front lawn. One man's trash is another man's treasure as they say, and this was a comfortable chair. A good place for thinking.

_"SPEAK"_

The phone had been ringing? I didn't even notice.

_"Hey Mark… Listen, I'm sorry about the other day… I know you were just worried about me and all but hey… If you're there could you-"_

"Hey Mimi…" I let out as I picked up the receiver. "You've heard from Mark in the past couple of days?" I couldn't help but ask before she got the chance to ask for him.

"He called me the day before yesterday to make sure I'd had enough AZT… Why? Hasn't he been home?"

"No… He left three days ago… We had a fight…"

"We did too… We argued over the phone… What happened Roger?"

"You know the stupid thing…? I don't remember what started it… Same as always though… He was hiding behind his camera…"

"How's his filming coming along anyways? Can we look forward to another Christmas Eve screening?"

"I don't know Meems… He kinda threw his camera at me… It's in like a hundred pieces on the table…"

"Fuck Roger… What did you say to him?"

"What did I say to him…? What did _you_ say to him? He might've been coming home if you didn't yell at him on the phone… He doesn't have any money on him. He'd've needed to come home for it to get you pills."

"Roger… I'm not going to fight with you over this. This is stupid. We need to figure out where the hell Mark is." Mimi sounds more than just a little bit dismissive. But she is right. Us fighting now would be bad.

"Yeah… Well he hasn't been around here. I've been out on the fire escape as much as I can be." It's cold out. I can't really stay out all day, but as much as I can bear to be I have been.

"Mark's not dumb though… He'll be taking care of himself."

"Yeah… He's a big boy…" In his fucking slippers. I can't get over that. In a sad way, I find it kind of funny, but then I realize that with the snow on the ground, it's not the best of things.

"Yeah… I'll call up Maureen and Joanne and let them know though… You can call Collins, right?" I groaned slightly. I didn't want the rest of the family to know… I think they'd get kind of pissed off at me if they knew that he left because I wanted to pick a fight. Fuck. I'm actually stressing out over this.

"Can we just kind of keep it quiet for now, Mimi? I'd rather not have everybody know about this right now… For all we know he could've gone home…" Yeah, right. Mark wouldn't go home if his life depended on it. I don't know what the issue is but there's something wrong in the Cohen family. Maybe that's why I don't really like his mother.

"Mark won't go home until Hell freezes over and you know that Roger… We really should call up the rest of us and see if he's with any of them. Maybe they've seen him around. We could ask at the Life Café… I don't know Roger… I'm not good at the finding thing… Who knows… Maybe Benny's seen him… I don't know… Call Alexi?" I'd forgotten for a moment that Mark worked at Buzzline again. Things had gotten to be just too hard to manage around here, stretching money too thin. We couldn't afford for both of us to eat and for me to have my AZT… So Mark decided that his eating wasn't important at first… Then when Alexi called us up, he didn't want to answer. I spoke to her, and I don't really know what happened after that, but Mark had his job back.

"Mimi… I can't make a big deal out of this… I don't want to get anybody pissed off at me right now. Mark's pissed off enough at me for all of you."

"And you seriously think we're not going to get pissed off at you if he dies because you were too worried about your image to go out and fucking look for your best friend?"

"You don't fucking understand, Mimi… You just don't fucking get it. You're too young."

"Don't give me your 'little girl' bullshit, Roger. I'm almost 21. You going on and on, and fucking on about how young I am is just pissing me off even more. You might not want to go out and search for Mark, but I'm not about to let him die because you started something you're not going to fix. Yeah, I had a hand in it, but he wouldn't have had to call me in the first place if you hadn't made him leave."

I heard the loud click as Mimi slammed the receiver down. Then I could hear her yelling in the loft beneath ours. It was frustrating that we argued over the phone, and then I could hear her going on about it downstairs.

_"Fucking asshole, I swear to god… Too worried about himself to give a rats ass about Mark… Doesn't care about anybody but _April. _Live his fucking life for a dead girl. She's not coming back, and he's too busy wallowing in self pity to do anything over it…"_

What April had to do with mine and Mark's fight, I don't know, but Mimi had no right to bring it up. I just wasn't about to go downstairs and deal with this now. Mimi is dangerous when she gets like this. I heard her door open, and then slam shut, fumbling with her keys, and everything. The whole nine yards. What was she doing heading out at this time to look for him. He'd be sleeping somewhere, I figured. Again, all I could do was hover at the fire escape, and watch her go out, into the cold after him. Even she wasn't wrapped up all that well, but she'd be better off than he was already. By far. She had a scarf on. And she wasn't wearing her slippers.

---

"Eight… One open three eight seven… One open three seven six…" Maybe if I said the frets out loud to myself I'd be able to figure out what I was doing wrong. But again, Mark's voice came from the door to the loft.

"Roger… You're never going to get it right until you move up one fret… It's not six, it's five…" 

"Just shut up Mark… I'm the professional… Besides… You're in my head…" At least I looked at the door as I said it… He'd heard me whispering the numbers one night and that was what I suffered through. I didn't tell him how to film. He shouldn't have been correcting my playing.

My beeper went off, and it sounded rather loud. I pushed the button on it so that it wouldn't go off in another five minutes.. AZT time. I had to turn it back on when Mark left. It was the only way I'd know that it was time to take it. I was forgetful. He wasn't. I hate taking the stupid pills. I still haven't gotten the hang of swallowing them dry. I put my guitar down and moved into the kitchen, eyeing the camera on the table. It still hadn't been touched since I'd made mental note to work on it four days ago.

He's been gone a week, and Mimi's gone out looking for him four days in a row now. I couldn't leave the loft. I did come up with reasoning behind it though now. If Mark came home and the door was locked… He wouldn't be able to get in… If he called, he wouldn't leave a message either. He was above those kind of things.

So you see… I couldn't leave. Mark couldn't come home if I went out. I poured myself a glass of water, and took a mouthful as I popped the pill into my mouth, and swallowed. I'd really have to start looking into a way of treatment that didn't require these fucking pills. I hate them.

And I couldn't just go back to my guitar either. Mark's voice was in my head. It wasn't leaving either. I could try my hand at writing a few lyrics, but I had a feeling that wouldn't go too well… Or… I could try and fix his camera.

Why the fuck should I fix the camera now though? I didn't even know if he was going to come back to the loft ever… Granted, I wouldn't be able to live myself if I'd managed to singlehandedly chase him out of my life, but I wasn't about to sit down and do something like that without a guarantee it would ever be used again. I wasn't about to take up filmmaking any time soon either. It being broken would just serve as a reminder that if Mark ever did come back, I'd have something to do. And it wasn't going to be songwriting either.

Just like now. I found myself sitting on the arm of the chair, with a notebook open on my lap, and a pencil between my lips.

_And I think this is sort of…_

What the fuck was I doing… That wouldn't work. Mark would say it to me right now.

_"Those lyrics won't work… You couldn't fit them into a line unless you rushed it. Besides… You don't sing songs about what you think things might sort of be like… You sing about what you know."_

"Shut up, Mark." Christ. Saying that made me realize just how quiet the apartment had become. I was telling the voice in my head to shut up. God this was pathetic. But then… My beeper went off again… Did I leave it in the kitchen though? It didn't sound like it was coming from nearby. I got up, and followed the sound of the electronic beep.

It led me to the door, and opening it, to Mimi, half asleep, and half frozen on the staircase. Despite the argument, she was sick. I was worried. Over the course of the last few months, Mimi's HIV had developed. No longer did she suffer from HIV, like me, now she suffered from AIDS, the actual killer. I still had years and years ahead of me. Her getting worse had made me realize just how numbered days really became when your T-cell count was low. In a way, it made me feel kind of alone. I was the last of us with HIV. Collins had AIDS, and it had killed Angel. In a way, I could really only thank Mark for it though.

Mark… Mimi's sick because she went out looking for him… I let my arms travel around her waist, and under her neck as I picked her up, and moved back into the apartment.

"Didn't find him, Rog…" Fuck her voice was quiet. Had she gone out without a coat every day?

"It's alright Meems… Stay quiet…" Maybe it was just that the cold was getting to her. Four days out in Alphabet City… Couldn't be good for anybody.

"S'cold in here…" The heat was on. It had been reconnected a couple weeks ago…

"Yeah… Let me get you a blanket…" I brushed my lips against her forehead… What? It's how Mark always figured out if I was running a fever on my bad days… Easiest to figure out according to him.

"I shouldn't be here, Rog… You'll get sick…" Typical. Worry about everybody else. At least typical of her in the last while. She'd changed after her near death experience. It almost made me feel as if part of her really had died.

"You _are_ sick… Let me help you…" I had to. Mark would've done it, but he wasn't here. The onus fell upon me.

"Roger… No… I won't let you…" She tried to argue as I wrapped the blanket around her. I even managed to lay beside her on the couch, and wrap my arms around her. If she felt cold, it was the very least I could do.

"Mimi… Stop fighting it… You're just gonna make your fever worse."

"S'not with Collins, or Maureen and Joanne… Didn't tell them anything… Just visited…"

"Go to sleep Mimi…"

"I'm sorry…"

"I already told you, it's alright… You don't have to apologize, you've done the best you can…" I ran my hand up and down her back. Hopefully she appreciated my attempt to fill in for Mark. I knew I'd never be able to replace him if he didn't come back, but I could try and fill in for now.

---

"Maureen… I don't know what to do… She's been running a fever for three days… I can't break it… She can barely keep her AZT down, never mind getting her to eat anything… " I was desperate. I knew she didn't have long left now. And panic set in… Mark wasn't here… I didn't know what to do. I'd tried aspirin, I'd tried cold cloths, I'd tried everything I could think of. When she was warm, I put her in a cold bath, when she was cold, I bundled her up and curled up next to her.

Panic. I'd lost April, I'm losing Mimi, and I might have even lost Mark…"Well, What about Marky…? Can't he get it to break either…?" Trust Maureen to find a way to hit home.

"Mark hasn't been here… But it's a long story, and I called about Mimi, not Mark… Maureen… You've got to help me figure this out…"

"Roger… I'm not a doctor… It sounds like she should be in a hospital… Can you get her there?"

"Well, yeah… She barely weighs a thing anymore… But that's not the point. The point is that when I walk into an emergency room, they know damn well to turn me around. I don't have money to afford this stuff, Maureen…" It was true. Any time I'd gone to the hospital they'd just turn me right around. It's a well known fact. Roger Davis has no money.

"Well… Joanne and me will meet you there… I'm sure she can take care of it… And while that's getting dealt with, you can explain this whole Mark thing to me…"

---

I don't know at what point on the subway ride I came to a realization, but by the time I got to the hospital with Mimi, she wasn't what I was most worried about. I'd had to lock the loft. If Mark happened to come back, He was screwed. The window was closed and locked that led to the fire escape, so climbing up that would get him nowhere, and he didn't have his keys. All of a sudden, I regretted calling Maureen.

But maybe that had more to do with the fact that while Mimi was being seen to, she was putting me quite literally through the third degree. I was pretty much running on autopilot, not paying that much attention to her until she asked in more than just a pissed off tone "Well how long has he been gone?"

I had to pause and think. It certainly felt as if Mark had been gone forever. Maybe that was just because it was usually so quiet. Spending the past three days trying to help Mimi took my mind off of Mark long enough so that I wasn't freaking out over it, but now… Now I really had no choice. "Ten days." I said simply when I came to the conclusion that that had in fact been how long it had been since I'd seen him.

"Ten days, Roger? How the fuck can you not be worried if he's been gone for ten days? Mark doesn't just fucking leave." Maureen was pissed. Really pissed. I was surprised her hands hadn't snaked their way around my throat. Can't she see that I am worried though?

"If I'd said I wasn't fucking worried there would be a difference. Did I ever say that I wasn't worried about him Maureen?" Of course I didn't. He's wearing fucking slippers in the snow. Who knows where he is, and he's got no money or coat or anything. He could be dead by now. The thought of it brings tears to my eyes. If Mark were to die because I wanted to start a fight with him ten days ago, I don't think I could live with myself.

Maureen must have caught sight of the tears that I refused to let fall, because next thing I knew, her arms were wrapped around my neck as she hugged me. It felt nice to get a hug, but I wished it was Mark hugging me, forgiving me rather than Joanne hugging me only to comfort me. "What if something happens to him, Maureen…? It's all my fault…"

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And that's that until Chapter three. Please do us a favour and review? If you're commenting on spelling though, please note, I'm Canadian, I use British spellings. What do you guys think of having the chapters a bit longer rather than shorter. Shorter means they come out more often, but longer gives me a chance to get more done at one time. It's up to you guys though.


	3. Chapter 3

Who Are You?

Jessica Dawn

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AN – I start working on my fics right away. Quite literally an hour after I posted the second chapter, I started writing this one.

It seems people are worried about Mark. We'll see if I feel like being nice enough to let you in on anything this chapter. Maybe if I keep you all hanging on long enough it'll get more reviews. Or maybe you guys could guess at where he is.

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If Mark had come home, I wouldn't have known it by the time I got in that night. I was so tired. Keeping a vigil at Mimi's bedside was tiring, but the doctors had confirmed what I feared. Mimi was dying. There was no point in continuing to force-feed her AZT. It was just a waste of time, medicine, and money. They gave her painkillers instead, so that at least she wouldn't feel as horrible as she really was.

It was sad really. You could see that she was dying. Her hair had lost it's shine, and her eyes didn't sparkle anymore. Her frame had grown so thin, and paled. She simply looked old. At least she'd managed to tell me that she wasn't sick from going out to look for Mark. She'd supposedly been feeling rather shitty for quite some time now. She knew her time was coming, and just wanted to clear the air between herself and Mark before she actually went. He'd feel bad if he weren't around for this.

I'd feel even worse though. He can't not be here this time. He managed to stay strong when Angel died… We really needed him if we lost Mimi. It was surreal to be thinking about her in days, weeks at most. Just a few weeks ago she'd been so full of life, and now she was about to be gone.

Another one of my girlfriends was dying, but this time felt so much different from April. First off, Mimi and me weren't dating anymore. We've been done for a while now. Now she was the little sister figure. The kind that's supposed to bury you instead of the other way around. The kind you always felt guilty about arguing with even while you were doing it. I wish I could do something to make her last few days here meaningful, and like… Take her somewhere breathtaking, but they won't let her out of hospital. I guess all I really can try and do is find Mark, and sort out that problem for her. Mark wouldn't want her to go without sorting out their problems.

"Hey Roger…" Maureen's voice shakes me from my thoughts. She's decided to stay with me until Mark comes back. Joanne's pretty busy anyways at the firm according to her, and there's not much for her to do at their apartment. That was the gist of the conversation that I'd had with them both. Maureen invited herself to Mark's bed. And quite frankly, I didn't really want her company, but it was better than nothing. I could only screw up Musetta's Waltz so many times before it got old.

"What, Maureen…? What is it?" I don't want to be rude, but I'm stressed out. I felt like I'd never relaxed. What did it mean to be relaxed anymore?

"Do us a favour and eat something, alright? I'd offer to cook, but I'm shit with it. Joanne cooks for me." Did I look hungry? Food simply wasn't something I'd thought about in the past couple of days. Food was trivial to me when I had so many people to worry about. Was this what Mark did over us?

"I'm fine, Maureen… Everything in the fridge is probably gone bad anyway." She was sitting at the coffee table now, a short way away from me. Apparently she was folding something. A moment later, a five dollar bill paper airplane landed on my chest.

"Go down to the café or something then. That should get you a burger and fries or something, no?" She offered, bright red lips pouting slightly. "Eat something for me? Mark would want me to take care of you."

God she made that sound horrible. She had a way of making it sound as if he was dead or something how she said that. But that couldn't be true. He's probably been at the Life Café anyways, washing dishes in exchange for meals and a spot in the corner to curl up. But something nagged at the back of my mind. Mimi would've checked Life first, and she'd said she hadn't seen him. Either way, going to Life was a better option than sitting around with Maureen. She'd always been more of Mark's friend than mine.

"Fine, Maureen… I'll go grab a burger…" I let out, and moved back over to the door. It was late, yet somehow, I knew Life would be open. It was like one of those little hole in the wall places that opened early and closed late. It was always there when I needed it. I tugged on my denim jacket, and wrapped a grey scarf around my neck. Whether it was mine or Mark's, I'd lost track of over the course of the last few years living with him. Slipping my runners on, I made my way out the door. There was no need to lock it, Maureen wasn't going anywhere. She'd picked up my guitar and was playing around on it. Part of me felt it was alright, and the rest of me wanted to snap at her for touching it.

God I need to relax. The smallest things are starting to make me want to snap. I've never had a real problem with anybody fooling around on my guitar. As I moved down the staircase, I shoved my hands in my pockets, and pulled out Mimi's key. I might as well check in on her things while I'm on my way past her home. Her door slid open after I turned the key, and I stepped in. Things at her place never really changed much. A small table, a couch, and behind a beaded curtain, her bed. I moved over to the bed, and sat down on the edge of it. How often had I walked in on her here, about to stick herself in the arm? It made me mad just thinking about it. But at the same time, It was almost a comforting thought. On the windowsill, I first noticed the candle she'd brought to me a couple of years ago. It was just a stub by now, but it brought back memories of those few nights around Christmas, when I'd wanted to convince myself I didn't like her. She was bad news for me. I couldn't let myself like her.

Then my eyes landed on them. The syringe and her stash. Seeing them made me so mad. Part of me wanted to throw it out, part of me wanted to take them to her, and an even bigger part of me almost longed to use them myself. It would easily help me relax. Relaxation was something I needed, but according to Maureen right now, I needed food. I really should've used the money she'd given me for food, but really, the thought of a burger and fries right now was turning my stomach more than sounding enticing. I stuffed the five into my pocket, knowing I couldn't just tell Maureen I didn't get anything, and instead, I find myself laying down on Mimi's bed for the next half hour.

My thoughts are everywhere. Mimi's impending death, Mark's disappearance, the seeming inability to write a simple song, and the urge to start using again. I know it's not a smart decision, and it's not something I'm going to take lightly, but the want is there. There's even part of me that thinks I need to start using again. But I know it's a dumb idea for now.

I spent the next two days at the hospital all day, staying with Mimi, or else, out combing the streets of Alphabet City, looking for Mark. We were coming up on two weeks now. He should realize by now that I was being stupid. I know I have. Or maybe it's the fact that he hasn't forgiven me yet. Would he even forgive me? When my thoughts aren't filled with Mimi or Mark, or even how annoying Maureen is getting to be, old thoughts of April surface, and with them, I partly wanted to have my old life back. Things seemed so much easier aback then… Maybe it's because I let the smack make my decisions for me, but hell, it was a lot easier than being me right now.

The doctors guessed that Mimi had a max of three days left. Any longer than that would surprise them. She looks like a completely different person now, and she keeps asking when Mark is going to come visit. I've just let her know that Mark isn't home yet, and she changes the topic.

"Maureen makes a better girlfriend than you do Roger… At least she knows how to paint nails…"

"Well sorry… If I'd've known I'd wind up painting your nails for you, I'd have asked the girls in highschool to show me how." Even back in my wannabe rockstar days, I never did my own nails. April did them for me.

"Where's Maureen today anyways?" Mimi'd asked, and I sighed slightly. It was unavoidable. "She's out trying to find Mark… You want to see him, don't you?"She hadn't yet asked of Mark's whereabouts yet. And overall, today seeemed to be a much better day than the rest had been. She seemed less as though she was resigned to her fate, and instead accepting of it.

"Mark's going to come home when he's ready to, Rog… You guys aren't going to find him." Her voice didn't sound defeated as she spoke, but she left no gap for me to interject anything. "He said so. I tried to tell him he should head back to the loft soon, but he wouldn't have any of it."

Something was up. Even being as thickheaded as I was, I could tell, and the fact that her hand had just clapped over her mouth as she'd spoken gave it away. "Mimi… When did you see Mark?" I asked. I couldn't help but sound somewhat accusatory. It'd been almost two fucking weeks, and he turns up in Mimi's hospital room before he shows face at the loft? How did he even know Mimi was here? Collins didn't even know that Mimi was here. She stared at me, and bit at her lip.

"I'm not supposed to tell you, but he was here last night… After you left."

"Mimi… Why didn't you call me right away? You know I've been a mess since he left…" I cut her off with that statement. "Did he say when he was coming home?"

"He didn't really say much at all. He said he'd forgiven me, and that he wasn't mad at me. He said he'd be home when he was good and ready, and that you wouldn't find him. Aside from that he really just kept on shushing me, when I tried to tell him to go home, and sat there, trying to put me to sleep."

I didn't want this to make me even more mad at Mark, but I couldn't help it. Being mad at somebody you were also worried about was difficult. Somehow though, I managed just fine. Mimi's words meant one real thing. Mark wasn't mad at all of us. Just me. Not that I'd expected him to be mad at all of us, just… If he was only mad at me, how come he was hiding from everybody?

"He looked really bad, Roger…I hope he comes back soon… He needs you…" Those three sentences did nothing to alleviate my fears. "He's just pissed off…"

"How does he look? Just how bad is it?" I had to know what to expect. It would do me no good to be in shock when I did see him again.

"I can't explain, Roger… Just… bad… I'm too tired…" Mimi spoke softly when she did, and broke off into a fit of coughing. All I really could do was rub her back for her, and try and roll her onto her side. I wasn't as good at replacing Mark as I'd like to think I was. Somehow, I just knew she preferred to have him here than me. Maybe not because she necessarily liked him better, or enjoyed his company more, but more because he knew what to do in these situations.

I just wasn't comfortable here, even if I knew I had to be here for her when she went. "I think maybe I should head home now…" But even as I said the words, I could see her fighting them in her mind.

"Rog… Don't go tonight… Stay with me…" When she spoke, it was like something clicked. I knew that it was tonight. It made sense. She wanted to make up with Mark, and she did. Now she could go. I moved from the chair I'd been sitting in beside her bed, and let one of my arms move underneath her, while the other lay overtop of her. I was sort of half laying on the bed, with one leg dangling over the edge, and helping me keep my balance.

"I'll stay with you as long as you want me to, Meems… I wouldn't dream of leaving you alone…" I couldn't. It wouldn't be right to let her die alone, in a hospital. If I could have had it my way, and probably the way she'd've wanted it, she'd've been at home in her loft. Who wanted to die in a place like this? I definitely didn't want to.

"Don't leave until I do…" God those words sounded ominous.


End file.
